


cultivate

by queenhomeslice



Series: Gladnis One-Shots [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Confessions of love, Flirting, Flowers, Getting Together, Gladnis, Kissing, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, featuring iggy's wild internal monologue, garden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 03:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: “They were gladiolus lilies, Gladio. Think. I am fond of gladiolus lilies.”Gladio tilts his head. “Oh.” He purses his spit-slicked lips, then his mouth falls open in surprise, realization blossoming across his chiseled features. “Oh, you meant. You meant me. You’re fond of me.”
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Series: Gladnis One-Shots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097777
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	cultivate

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way. 
> 
> ________  
> Thanks to my dear Ghost for the prompt! "Gladnis, a garden, miscommunication"

_You can do this. You can do this. You can do this_. Ignis inhales deeply, then exhales long and slow. He wills his feet to move, and he forces himself to adopt the stony poker face he’s learned to wear whenever he has to do anything related to the politics of the kingdom. The bundle of gladiolus sword lilies trembles only slightly in his hand—unless one were inches away from him, they wouldn’t notice at all. The rhythmic clack of his heels as he strides down the long marble hallway matches his breathing, the sound providing a sort of meditative soundtrack as he draws closer and closer to the office of Clarus Amicitia. 

But of course, the king’s shield is not Ignis’ target—rather, his son, Gladiolus, whose namesake Ignis is delicately cradling in his left hand. 

_Gladiolus_. Gods, what can Ignis even say about the man? Where does one even _start_? Do you start at his gorgeous, honey-amber eyes that can pierce your very soul? The eyes that light up brighter than the sun when he’s amused, that are fierce and focused when he’s training, that hold so much depth and nuance within their golden pools? Or do you start at the broad shoulders that Ignis longs to run his hands across, stained with the most intricate roadmap of ink, a loyal eagle that echoes his devotion to their shared liege, Noctis? Perhaps one could start at his brain, the brain that devours thick novels like they’re mere afternoon snacks, the brain that can argue down any boring old member of the king’s council, the brain that’s been trained for over two decades to eventually take his father’s place as head of the king’s court? 

One could _definitely_ start talking about Gladiolus Amicitia by mentioning the mouth-watering monster that’s nestled between his watermelon-crushing thighs. Oh, yes—they've been training together for _years_ , and years of military combat and exercise drills means years of sweaty men’s locker rooms and steaming hot showers and witnessing Gladio’s libertine tendencies with the tiny towels the Citadel sees fit to supply. The first time Ignis had caught just the barest of glimpses of Gladio’s flaccid manhood, he’d stroked his own later that night until he was raw and whimpering. What he wouldn’t give to... 

“Ignis, my boy. Aren’t you going to come in?” 

Ignis blinks. He’d been so lost in thought, monologuing about the beautiful virtues of his closest friend and ally, that he didn’t even realize he’s been wavering inside of the doorway for an embarrassing length of time. 

“Pardon the intrusion, Lord Amicitia,” he says with a quick bow. His eyes dart over to the object of his affection. 

Gladio looks up from his book, a wide grin splitting his broad, beautiful face. “Hey Iggy.” 

By the grace of the gods, Ignis manages to keep his knees from buckling. “Hello, Gladiolus.” 

Gladio tilts his head, and then he notices the flowers in the adviser’s hand. “Did you want to talk about something?” 

“That would be preferable.” 

“Okay,” he chuckles. “You could’ve just said so.” He shoots a pointed look at his father. “Later, Pops.” 

Clarus nods, eyes twinkling. “Take care, son.” 

Gladio snaps the book shut after replacing the bookmark within its pages and stands, drawing up to full height and stretching his arms up high. 

Ignis tries—and fails—not to get lost in the little patch of tummy that is revealed to him as Gladio’s shirt rides up, the soft-looking dark curls of a happy trail that leads beneath the waistband of his sweats and down below to... 

“So,” Gladio says, dropping his long arms, threading one around Ignis and leading him back out into the hallway. “What’s up?” 

“I,” Ignis starts, maneuvering out from Gladio’s grip. He holds out his left hand. “I wanted to give you these.” 

“Oh, wow. These are real pretty, Iggy,” Gladio says, tucking his book under his arm and taking the lilies into his own hands. 

Ignis bristles at the touch of Gladio’s long, thick fingers, and quickly drops his hand. “They’re your namesake, after all,” says Ignis, clasping his hands behind his back. “I do have a fondness for them, I must admit.” 

Gladio smiles softly and turns them over in his hands, admiring their shape and color. “I always liked ‘em too, and not because it’s my name,” he chuckles. He drags his gaze back to Ignis. “I better rush home and put them in water.” 

That...was not the answer Ignis had anticipated. He blinks a few times and tilts his head. Gladio seems appreciative, but...he doesn’t seem to have picked up on Ignis’ hint? _A fondness for them. A fondness for gladiolus. A fondness for Gladiolus._ It had seemed so simple a wordplay in his brain; he knows that Gladiolus is smart, but perhaps...perhaps Ignis had been reading their relationship wrong? He dares not dwell on it—not here, not in front of the man he’s been madly in love with for years upon years. He couldn’t bear it. So Ignis simply says, “Be sure to place them where there is adequate sunlight.” 

Gladio nods, and smiles so brightly that Ignis’ heart breaks into a hundred pieces. “I will, Iggy. Thanks.” Gladio nods at him and turns. 

Ignis can only watch Gladio’s perfect backside as it retreats down the hall to the elevators. 

_Bollocks_. 

________ 

Nearly a week later, Ignis finds himself taking a long lunch break in the Citadel gardens, breathing in the warm spring air and the sweet, pungent blossoms of the thousands of varieties of flowers housed within the grounds. He lets his mind drift, as it is wont to do, to Gladio, and how stunning he’d looked last night when they were all hanging out at Noct’s apartment. _I could taste test for_ _ya_ _, Iggy_ , Gladio had said, when Ignis was in the kitchen with his hands on his hips, questioning the flavor of his stew. It’d taken all of his formal training and sense of public propriety not to whip around and say something like _I’d rather taste you instead, you big clueless oaf_. But he’d kept his mouth shut, and Ignis Scientia had lived to pine another few days. 

Until now. 

He hears voice on the other side of the huge, towering hedge; and as he draws closer, he recognizes one of the voices as Sophia, the master gardener from Accordo that’s been in Regis’ service for the past several years. 

“Do you think he’d like these naked ladies?” comes the other voice. 

It’s Gladio. 

Ignis presses himself into the hedge, careful not to rustle the leaves. What on earth... 

“He gave me some gladioluses a few days ago,” Gladio continues, slightly perplexed tone carrying across the light breeze. “He said he had a fondness for them. So I wanted to give him some other lilies I thought he might like, since he likes lilies...” 

Ignis smashes his hand against his mouth, biting back the peals of laughter that threaten to burst forth. _Lilies. The gorgeous, oblivious man thought he’d just liked_ lilies. Once Ignis feels in control of his emotions, he waits for Sophia to reply with some additional breeds for Gladio to consider; after he hears the shield murmur thanks, and after he’s sure that the gardener’s quiet footsteps have receded into the opposite end of the garden, Ignis steels himself and rounds the wall of foliage. 

Gladio has his hands on his perfectly curved hips. He’s wearing a muscle shirt, his broad shoulders and beefy biceps on display for the whole world to see. Ignis feels his mouth water. Gladio has his back turned and he’s studying rows upon rows of planted lilies, seemingly contemplating which ones to pick for a return bouquet. 

Ignis clears his throat, and Gladio bristles slightly. The shield turns, eyes lighting up, and—no, Ignis isn’t imagining it. Gladio’s tanned cheeks are flushed a light pink, matching the naked lady lilies that are nestled in the soft grass near his boots. 

“Hey Iggy! Didn’t expect to see you out here.” Gladio gestures to the flowers. “The lilies here are really pretty, aren’t they?” 

And Ignis...Ignis has had enough. He merely nods and walks right up to Gladio, reaching to place both of his hands on either side of the shield’s face. It’s so easy to look him in the eyes; Gladio’s only half a foot taller than him. 

“Gladiolus,” Ignis starts, voice already a little wrecked just from being this close to him. 

“Yeah?” Gladio says, confused. 

“The flowers I gave you. I said I had a fondness for them.” 

Gladio sighs in self-defeat. “I dunno how much you heard,” he says gloomily, ignoring the fact that Ignis is cradling his cheeks. “But I wanted to get you flowers too, since you got _me_ flowers...” 

Ignis clicks his tongue. “Oh, you pure, pure man,” he chides, right before leaning forward and slotting his lips against Gladio’s. 

The taste of the resident Citadel beefcake is better than Ignis could’ve ever imagined. Gladio’s mouth goes slack and he opens up _so_ easily for Ignis, moaning softly as Ignis sucks on his tongue like he’d suck a cock. After a minute of lazy, languid rhythm, Ignis pulls away. The trail of spit that connects their lips is the most obscene thing he’s ever seen, and he can’t even be bothered to be bashful about it. 

“Iggy,” Gladio moans, long dark eyelashes fluttering open to reveal honeyed irises merely a thin ring, with his pupils dilated all to shit. 

“They were _gladiolus_ lilies, Gladio. Think. I am fond of _gladiolus_ lilies.” 

Gladio tilts his head. “Oh.” He purses his spit-slicked lips, then his mouth falls open in surprise, realization blossoming across his chiseled features. “Oh, you meant. You meant _me_. You’re fond of _me_.” 

“Gods above, and I thought Noctis was dense.” 

Gladio gives Ignis a heartwarming, goofy grin and breaks out into an uncontrollable giggle. “You’re too clever for me, Iggy. I’m a simple guy.” 

Ignis smirks. “Should I just have kissed you instead, then?” 

“Yeah, that would’ve worked. But the flowers were nice.” 

“Well, now you know what they mean.” 

“Sure,” says Gladio. He licks his lips. “Too bad there’s not an _ignis_ flower.” 

“Unfortunately not. However...you could _deflower_ me at your leisure, you absolute oaf.” 

Gladio’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and his ears go red. He grabs Ignis by the waist and pulls him forward to feel his already interested length. “Damn Iggy, when did you get so smooth?” 

“Well, one of us has to be. You’ve been missing my hints after all.” 

Gladio leans forward to press his mouth against Iggy’s lips again. “I guess you don’t want the naked ladies, then,” he whispers when he pulls away. 

“I’m sure they’d be lovely, but no. I’d rather see you naked instead.” 

“It would be my pleasure,” Gladio purrs. 


End file.
